


I like the way you still say please while you're looking up at me

by orphan_account



Category: Gøøns (Podcast), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, Friends With Benefits, Gun Fellatio, Gun Kink, Gunplay, Implied Matt | BlargMyShnoople/Dallas | SnipingSoup/Eric | TheDooo/Eric | McNasty, Implied Poly!Goons, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, No Beta We Die Like Endermen, Porn with Feelings, Sleepy Cuddles, Spooning, Submission, Threats of Violence, Under-negotiated Kink, but noooooooooo, ew retch blegh tops :/, screeching our lungs out, superb you funky little gaymers, they need to talk before they introduce a loaded gun to a scene, this is written from the dom's perspective, tw: the gun fires but no one is hurt, with the gun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:08:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27635924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Just so I’m explicitly clear here,” Dallas says, “this gun is loaded with real bullets, and you want me to fuck your mouth with it. Am I right?”“Yup,” Eric confirms at Dallas’s feet. “Yes or no answers only, I’m running out of steam.” He shifts restlessly on his knees again.Dallas’s eyes flicker back to the gun, and he pulls the full magazine out, lets it click back into place. The sound settles something in his mind, and he rolls his shoulders back, shifts his posture deliberately. He steps closer, whittling the distance away between him and Dooo. He presses the length of the barrel against Dooo’s cheek again, and lets him feel the whole length of it as he slides it down his skin, towards his mouth.McNasty clears his throat. “Just- uh, be careful? Dooo can’t be replaced.”“That’s sweet of you, Eric,” Dooo says. “Dallas, hurry up. Don’t be afraid to be rough, that’s kind of the point.”[title from Figured You Out by Nickelback]
Relationships: Dallas | SnipingSoup/Eric | TheDooo, Dallas | SnipingSoup/Eric | TheDooo/Eric | McNasty
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [His gun in my mouth and his voice in my head](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27059875) by [treehousq](https://archiveofourown.org/users/treehousq/pseuds/treehousq). 



> trre my love this isn't even the one I was telling you about. dude. broski. my head's so full of gun kink you wouldn't even believe lmaooo
> 
> reminder: if you are a minor, please do not comment! I won't try to control what you read but it does make me uncomfy to interact with you on an explicit work. thank you!!

Someone is pacing in front of Dallas’s bedroom door.

Silently, he shoves his comforter off and perches on the edge of the bed. His feet are on the ground, hand twitching toward the bedside table with the nine millimeter sitting comfortably inside. Precious seconds tick by, and he stares at his worn carpet as he listens to the footsteps pause, an almost imperceptible sigh following it.

He’s almost positive it’s McNasty outside, and it’s three in the morning. Dallas wants to go back to sleep.

Eric has the gall to look surprised when the door swings open. Dallas is sure he looks sleep-mussed, hair tied back loosely and pillow lines creasing his face, but McNasty’s perception of his abilities is frankly insulting.

“No way you knew I was out here.”

“You’re as tall as an elephant and you make the same amount of fuckin’ noise,” Dallas gripes, resisting the urge to slam the door on him. “I’d be surprised if the whole crew isn’t awake. Fuck do you want.”

A concerning mixture of emotions crosses McNasty’s face, and he settles on grimaced reluctance, hesitance creasing his brow. “It’s… sensitive,” he says lowly, rolling the words around in his mouth.

He’s shifting on his feet in a way that Soup can’t decipher, but the phrase sends his mind crashing into work mode. Sensitive usually means blood and low voices and razor-sharp smiles, and Dallas straightens, debating whether to rummage through his room for his own guns or whether the ones downstairs will suffice this time.

McNasty is still eyeing him, and, significantly more alert now, Dallas catalogues his slight breathlessness, the flush dusted across his cheekbones. Interrogation, maybe, but it’d been a while since Eric had asked. Dallas steps into the hallway, pulling his door closed behind him, and rolls his shoulders, letting his mind drop into the tactical, inhospitable place reserved for work as Eric leads him down the hallway.

Instead of turning towards the elevators as Dallas expects, though, Eric stops in front of Dooo’s door. He turns to face Dallas, and he’s got that look again, full of reluctance but still resigned. Dallas isn’t used to seeing him doing something he’s unwilling to, and McNasty’s hesitation combined with their unusual location is reeling him slowly out of his work headspace. More than anything, he’s confused.

“I- fuck, I think you’re the only person who can handle this, and I have no idea how to mentally prepare you for it, so just. Be cool,” Eric says, and Dallas nods, trying to ignore the uncertainty cloying heavily on the back of his tongue.

McNasty pushes the door open and Dallas follows him in, pushing the door closed behind him before he can process what he’s looking at.

“Uh, McNasty?” he asks, for lack of absolutely anything else to say.

“Christ, you got Dallas?” Dooo asks, remarkably casual considering he’s kneeling naked on the floor in front of Dallas. His hands are behind him, either held or cuffed, Soup can’t tell, and he’s leaning against the foot of his bed for support. His tone is unbothered, but Dallas catches the way his eyes dart warily to McNasty, who walks down the room to post himself firmly on the bed facing the pair.

McNasty makes a small scoffing sound in the back of his throat. “Who else did you think was gonna go through with it?” Dallas is lost, and he’s not sure what _it_ is but Dooo rolls his eyes, comfortable and amused.

“Well, I thought you could go through with it. Obviously I was wrong,” and he’s shifting as he speaks, abs tightening as he straightens up. Dallas’s eyes trace a lazy pattern up his milky thighs to where he’s hard and leaking onto his stomach, and he can feel Dooo’s eyes on him as he tries to inscribe the image in his mind. He looks gorgeous bound where he is — and he _is_ bound, Dallas catches a glimpse of the cuffs circling his wrists — and when he glances up to Dooo’s face, he’s smirking cheekily at him, shuffling his legs further apart to give Dallas a show.

“What can he not do?” Dallas asks absently. He tears his eyes away from Dooo long enough to consider the uncomfortable frown slashed across McNasty’s face before the oldest reaches for the nightstand and picks up the handgun sitting there.

He offers it to Dallas, grip facing him, and Soup takes it more out of muscle memory than intent. He’s tense, holding the gun abnormally properly as he checks the magazine. McNasty goes to sit on the bed, close enough to Dooo to press his legs into his side.

The gun is fully loaded, and Dooo looks up at him expectantly. Hopefully.

Dallas glances between the two of them, and the confusion written across his face starts to melt away as he gets an idea of what Dooo is asking for. Just to confirm his suspicion, he asks, “Just what exactly do you want me to do with this?” The gun feels heavier than normal in his hand, and Dallas is confused on just what his part in this- role-play fantasy is.

“Well, I asked Eric if he would tie me up and fuck my mouth with a gun. That gun.” He nods towards Dallas’s hands. “But we got down to it and he’s too chickenshit-”

“Fuck yeah, I am,” McNasty interrupts.

“-too chickenshit to put it in my mouth while it’s loaded. And if it’s not loaded, then it’s no fun at all,” Dooo says, and there’s only a whisper of cheeky amusement sliding across his face before it’s gone again, leaving only the hungry look in his eyes, the way he exposes his neck like a reminder as he watches Dallas shift his weight above him.

“Just so I’m explicitly clear here,” Dallas says, “this gun is loaded with real bullets, and you want me to fuck your mouth with it. Am I right?” He spares a glance up to McNasty, who’s leaning back on his arms as he watches Dallas shift the balance of the grip in his hand. His eyebrows are furrowed, expression full of reluctant exasperation, but he jerks his chin up in a nod.

“Yup,” Eric confirms at Dallas’s feet. “Yes or no answers only, I’m running out of steam.” He shifts restlessly on his knees again, and Dallas eyes him as his cock bobs gently against his happy trail.

Dallas’s eyes flicker back to the gun, and he pulls the full magazine out, lets it click back into place. The sound settles something in his mind, and he rolls his shoulders back, shifts his posture deliberately. He steps closer, whittling the distance away between him and Dooo, and rests the cool metal of the barrel against Dooo’s cheekbone.

The color rises in his cheeks immediately, skin flushing a deep, satisfying pink. Dallas flicks his eyes to the other participant. “You stayin’, McNasty?” he asks, the corner of his lip curling when he sees Dooo twitch at his tone.

McNasty grimaces. “Don’t think I could leave in good conscience,” he admits, somewhat sheepishly. Dallas is pretty sure he should feel offended at that glowing character review, but he just shrugs, turns his attention back to Dooo’s face, slides the muzzle down the hollow of the older’s cheek. His pupils blow addictively at the movement, lips parting unconsciously.

“Safeword?” Dallas asks. He almost feels bad for interrupting what he started, watching Dooo blink himself back from whatever headspace he was sinking into.

“No,” Eric responds simply, and Dallas changes his mind immediately, glad he asked. He pulls the gun away from his skin, forcing Dooo’s eyes to focus on him again. McNasty sighs behind him, rubbing his temples.

“Safeword or this stops,” Dallas says, cautiously calculated.

It pays off. Dooo sighs, rolls his eyes. “You’re both boring. Stoplights, then.” It’s a concession, an invitation back, and Dallas steps comfortably back into his space, though he tries to tuck a reminder in the back of his head to corner McNasty about safety later.

He presses the length of the barrel against Dooo’s cheek again, and lets him feel the entire length of it as he slides it down his skin, towards his mouth.

McNasty clears his throat. “Just- uh, be careful? Dooo can’t be replaced.”

“That’s sweet of you, Eric,” Dooo says. “Dallas, hurry up. Don’t be afraid to be rough, that’s kind of the point.”

Dallas quirks an eyebrow at McNasty as he lets the gun rest against the line of Dooo’s jaw. The metal drags against his skin as Dallas pulls it back up, sitting against his full bottom lip, pink and spit-slick under the gray gunmetal. Dooo lets out the smallest gasp as the metal touches his mouth, parts his lips just so, just begging to be pushed against, and it’s intoxicating, really. Dallas pulls the gun back just a hair, tugging Dooo’s lip down, and then presses the tip into his mouth, past his teeth. He watches the front sight disappear into Dooo’s mouth, watches Dooo’s eyes flutter and the way he widens his mouth around the barrel.

Dooo looks incredible, wrapping his lips around the barrel perfectly, and Dallas takes a second in the slow adjustment period to admire him. The gun is just slightly off-balance in his hand, the barrel longer than he’s used to — he’s fucking Dooo’s mouth with McNasty’s gun, after all, not his own. The weight of it is good though, and he thinks Dooo must feel the same, drooling excessively, hollowing his cheeks around the gun before Dallas even has most of it in his mouth. As much as Dallas would like to say he’s hesitant out of fear of pushing Dooo too far, it’s influenced much more by the fact that he wants to see Dooo squirming for want of more.

He does, too, whining high in his throat and opening his eyes to glare at Dallas, suckling at the barrel as if he can draw the length into his mouth on suction alone. Dallas can feel himself hardening at the image; Dooo on his knees, cheeks flushed, looking up through fanned eyelashes as he silently begs Dallas to fuck his mouth with the gun. Dallas lets out a rumbling groan, pressing the heel of his free hand against his cock through his jeans.

Simultaneously, he gives Dooo another inch of the muzzle, watching him suck eagerly at it. “This seems like something we could have been doing for a long time,” he breathes, pressing forward further, marveling at the sensation, the way he can feel the gentle resistance against his hand as Dooo gives a hard suck. Dallas pushes the gun in the rest of the way, until the trigger guard catches on Dooo’s cheek, and he can feel the back of Dooo’s throat brush against the muzzle. It’s a heady feeling.

Dooo keens, rising more firmly on his knees to try to correct the angle he bobs his head at, eager to fit more of it in his throat. The glaze of subspace is obvious when he blinks tearily, when Dallas twists the gun and it rips a whine out of Dooo’s throat around the barrel.

He starts to pull the gun away and Dooo follows, gagging a bit when Dallas stops and the muzzle hits the back of his throat without warning. He opens his eyes again, meeting Dallas’s heavy gaze and deliberately hollowing his cheeks. “Fuck,” Dallas says eloquently, palming at the outline of his cock in his pants.

“What if I-” Dallas starts.

The sound of the gun being cocked echoes unmistakably through the room.

Dooo’s cock twitches in reaction. His eyes are closed again.

“Dallas,” McNasty says warningly, and Dallas fully ignores him.

“Color?” he asks, and pulls the gun out of Dooo’s mouth so he can answer.

“Green. _So_ fucking green, _fuck_ ,” and his voice is reedy and hoarse from Dallas stuffing the gun down his throat.

Dallas chances a look at McNasty, who’s picking uncomfortably at a loose thread on the bedsheets. He smirks.

Bending down, he pulls McNasty up to standing and presses their lips together, hot and wet and sultry, sending sparks shivering through them both. When McNasty makes a breathless noise, Dallas pulls away, eyeing Dooo, hoping to draw McNasty in without having to ask him in so many words.

McNasty nods, takes the hint gracefully. He sinks to his knees beside Dooo, drawing him into a dirty, thrilling kiss that turns into McNasty’s lips on his neck, trailing sultry and burning down his body. Dallas watches Dooo’s hands twitch behind him, tugging almost unconsciously at his restraints.

It’s thrilling to watch Dooo gasp out tiny, whimpering breaths, so sensitive after having been hard for so long. He whines softly as McNasty sucks the leaking head of his cock into his mouth.

Letting McNasty work, Dallas runs the muzzle of the gun up Dooo’s heaving chest, lingering only for a second on his jawline before he reaches his mouth. “Open.” It’s not unkind, but certainly an order.

Dooo obeys deliciously easily, pink mouth stretching to greet the now-warm metal. His tongue curls around it, and Dallas can see him pressing against the cuffs, thin strips of metal digging into his skin.

It’s easy to track the moment Dooo realizes; his eyes flutter open for a moment, snag on Dallas’s finger curled loosely around the trigger.

His pupils blow wide immediately, and he whimpers around the barrel, eyes rolling up like he’s trying to find Dallas’s face and can’t focus enough to find him. Dallas hums in amusement; he’s so hard it’s getting difficult to focus on Dooo, on keeping the right angle pressing into his throat.

“You really get off on this, huh?” he asks with deep interest, and then pushes the gun more forcefully into Dooo’s mouth, wrenching a moan out of him even as it clacks against his teeth. Dallas sets a pace, finally, pulling the gun in and out of Dooo’s soft lips in time with the quick bobbing rhythm of McNasty’s head over his cock.

Dooo’s crying becomes more obvious, then, tears streaking down his cheeks. Dallas isn’t sure whether it’s caused by the visceral fear of having a gun in his mouth, or the pleasure overload of his throat being filled and McNasty’s mouth on him. Either way, Dallas swipes his thumb roughly across Dooo’s cheek and brings it to his lips, pressing the taste into his mouth. He isn’t sure how much further he could take this, how much further he _should_.

He doesn’t mind pushing the boundaries a little.

“I really could kill you, you know,” Dallas says, voice low and gravelly. Dooo moans. “You heard me cock the gun. You know it’s real. That’s what you needed, right?”

Dooo nods around the constant slide of the gun in his mouth, in and out, in and out.

“It’d be fuckin’... poetic. Ironic, huh? If I killed you with Eric’s gun?” Dallas can practically feel McNasty pause in his movement, pulling away from Dooo’s cock to eye Soup warily. Dooo whines at the loss of the pressure.

“Cool it,” McNasty says.

“I’m just stating facts,” Dallas says, and his voice is less controlled now, halfway to a gasp. He’s lost any trace of the cold control he had entered the room with, and his free hand drops to his waistband, fumbling with his sweatpants. “I put death in his mouth and he- fuck, he looks good like this.”

Dallas presses the gun in more forcefully now, and Dooo just takes it, beautifully. His hips thrust weakly into empty air, cold from the absence of McNasty’s mouth, but he just whines under Dallas’s steady hand.

McNasty is still eyeing Dallas’s hold on the gun, finger held lightly against the trigger even as he presses harshly into Dooo’s mouth. One wrong move and Dooo’s fantasy wouldn’t be nearly so fantastic. “Enough,” he says, pushing to his feet.

“Color?” Dallas asks. His voice is thick and rough, and his head feels stuffed full of cotton, hot and fuzzy with lust. He knows that it’s exactly that that’s got McNasty so wary.

“Dallas, I’m not fuckin’ kidding,” Eric says, stepping forward threateningly. Dallas can barely hear him, leaning over Dooo, riveted to the way Dooo looks, absolutely out of his head and still sucking needily at the barrel of the gun.

Dallas’s hand flies over the length of his cock. “Color?” he repeats. It’s almost breathless, and sounds obscene mixing with the wet sound of Dooo slobbering on the gun.

He finally pulls the gun out so Dooo can answer. “Green,” comes the hasty reply, and Dooo is opening his mouth again, tongue lolling out to greet the barrel before Dallas even offers the gun to him again. He fucks it into Dooo’s mouth slow and deep, reveling in the feeling of his throat flexing around the metal.

Dooo is pressing his thighs together; Dallas watches him hump shallow and desperate into the air, so close to his breaking point, and Dallas wants to shove the gun into his mouth and hold it in his throat while he chokes on it.

McNasty grabs his wrist.

He still looks reluctant, though whether it’s from the gun pointed at Dooo or ending the scene, Dallas isn’t sure. He tries to shake McNasty’s hand anyway, first on instinct and then more deliberately. The gun clacks against Dooo’s teeth and he removes it entirely.

Dooo lets out a reedy whine at that, tongue scraping over his bruised lips before his mouth falls open again, waiting for the gun still aimed at his head. Dallas can still see him rocking against his own thigh, but his attention is on McNasty now, hand off his cock, ready to grapple with McNasty. His head is clearing slowly, though he’s still terribly attuned to the desperate whimpers Dooo is still letting out.

“You’ve had your fun. We can get him off the old-fashioned way. This is- it’s too much, I can’t fucking do this.” McNasty’s voice is stern, but they’re both treading uncertain waters here.

Dooo makes another small, desperate noise at Dallas’s feet. His mouth still hangs open.

“If he’s fine with it, I don’t see what your problem is,” Dallas says.

“It’s a loaded gun, Dal. Fuck’s sake.”

“Let go of me.” Dallas’s voice is sinking into those colder shapes again, and he’s edging closer to a glare as he flicks his wrist to shake McNasty off.

Eric’s expression changes, and there’s anger tinting his features now, drawing the color back into his cheeks, furrowing his brows. “I’m not asking. Give me the gun.”

“No,” Dallas says, and he knows they can’t continue the scene anyway, so it might only be stubborn spite fueling him, but he glares at McNasty. The grip on his wrist tightens, turns painful. There’s the faintest crack as the joint pops.

McNasty’s face doesn’t change. “Okay,” he says.

Abruptly, he twists Dallas’s wrist up and away, the movement sharp and painful. Dallas twists, trying to reclaim his balance, grunts as he digs his fingers into McNasty’s ribs. “Get- the fuck off-“

“Let go of it, asshole-“ McNasty’s grip changes on his wrist, the tips of his fingers digging into something wrong, a hot flash of pain roaring up Dallas’s arm. He yelps, flinches.

The gun fires.

The clatter of the gun falling to the floor covers all but the tail end of Dooo’s choked-off groan. He’s curled over himself on the ground, cum painting his stomach. “Fuck,” McNasty says, and drops to his knees next to Dooo.

“Hey, baby,” he says, and it’s gentle and caring and something rises thick in Dallas’s throat. “Can you open your eyes for me?” McNasty’s eyes are roaming Dooo’s torso, and Dallas has already spotted the hole in the ceiling, a few feet from the fan, and he knows McNasty has too. He doesn’t blame him for checking anyway.

Dooo opens his eyes, slow and hazy. A smile winds its way across his face. “Fuck.”

“You good?” McNasty asks. It takes a second for Dooo to nod, but he does.

McNasty laughs a little, breaking only to shoot as much of a dirty look as he can muster at Soup. His eyes roam over Dooo again, and Dallas watches him choke on the next inhale. “Eric, did you- did that make you cum?”

“Uh… yeah,” Dooo says, and it’s an admission, but his voice hums with laughter. He’s trembling, fine and shivery, and when McNasty doesn’t move away, he leans forward and presses his face into the taller’s chest.

“Jesus, baby,” McNasty sighs, and some tension finally leaves his body. He brushes one hand down Dooo’s back, reaching down to undo the cuffs. “I knew you were a little fucked up, but that’s… a lot.”

“I mean, yeah. But- _fuck_ , that was good,” Dooo groans, rolling his jaw. There’s a small clinking as McNasty drops the cuffs to the ground, and Dooo rubs his wrists absently, still pressing his face into McNasty’s collarbones like an affectionate cat.

“See? Told you there was nothin’ to worry about,” Dallas grumbles. He’s leaning against the wall across from them, feeling a bit that, for all that McNasty had invited him, this moment wasn’t meant for him.

It’s affirmed at least slightly when McNasty shoots him a scowl. “Don’t you fuckin’ tell me there’s nothing to worry about. That seemed a little too fucking fun for you, Dallas.”

Dallas shrugs, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets. He’s very aware he’s still got a raging hard-on, and he mostly just wants to leave aftercare to McNasty so he can go back to his room to jerk off and faceplant back in bed. “Yeah, well. Some people want the gun in their mouth, other people wanna hold it.”

Dooo snickers softly.

At the exasperated glance McNasty leans back to give him, Dooo shakes his head, holding his hands up in repentance. “Hey, now, I know this is like, serious shit, but the guy’s got a point!”

McNasty presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Christ, I don’t know what to do with either of you.”

The door slams open.

Matt and Grizzy each have a weapon in hand, though Grizzy immediately yelps and drops his in favor of slapping his hands over his eyes. “Okay, they’re fine!” he calls, and Dallas has to work not to laugh at how far he’s already made it down the hallway.

Blarg’s eyes dart from Dooo — fully naked on the floor, good god — to the waistband of Dallas’s boxers tucked underneath his cock, to McNasty and the gun, both sitting in between the pair. “What,” he says, “the fuck is going on.” At least he’s lowered his gun.

“Uh,” McNasty says intelligently, and Dooo just starts laughing.

“I have a death wish, that’s what’s happening,” he offers, bubbling and amused, after another quiet moment.

Dallas just shrugs, tucking himself back into his sweatpants. Shouldering his way out of the room, he stops to pick up Grizzy’s gun and flick the safety on. There’s the shuffle of movement behind him, and Dallas stops to watch Blarg throw one more confused look into Dooo’s bedroom and begin to follow Soup back to his.

“I’m getting all of us a therapist,” McNasty calls into the hallway. Dooo’s bright laugh echoes behind them as Matt slips his hand into Dallas’s back pocket.


	2. I like the way you like me best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a knock at Dooo’s door. It startles him out of sleep, and he lets his eyes adjust to the darkness as he fumbles for his phone. Squinting against the harsh light, he can just make out the rounded shape of the leading five. The sun is just beginning to lighten the sky outside.
> 
> “Come in,” he says, voice shot to all hell. He clears his throat, wincing at the dry scrape, and pushes himself up against the pillows at his headboard. McNasty pokes his head in.
> 
> He gives Dooo a small smile, more hesitant than Dooo has seen him in a long time, but it’s effortless for the grin to grow on Dooo’s face, an easy mirror that seems to encourage McNasty. He steps fully into the room, and crosses it in a few long strides, climbing into Dooo’s bed like a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unexpected fluff chapter. post-chapter one

There’s a knock at Dooo’s door. It startles him out of sleep, and he lets his eyes adjust to the darkness as he fumbles for his phone. Squinting against the harsh light, he can just make out the rounded shape of the leading five. The sun is just beginning to lighten the sky outside.

“Come in,” he says, voice shot to all hell. He clears his throat, wincing at the dry scrape, and pushes himself up against the pillows at his headboard. McNasty pokes his head in.

He gives Dooo a small smile, more hesitant than Dooo has seen him in a long time, but it’s effortless for the grin to grow on Dooo’s face, an easy mirror that seems to encourage McNasty. He steps fully into the room, and crosses it in a few long strides, climbing into Dooo’s bed like a child. 

Dooo hums softly in greeting, reaching out almost instinctually for McNasty. They meet easily, with the grace that only comes with molding yourself to a person for so many months, so many years, now. McNasty curls an arm around Dooo’s waist, peppers kisses over his neck, gentle. Drowsy from sleep already, Dooo nuzzles gently into the hollow of McNasty’s shoulder, the comforting spot where McNasty’s even, sleepy breaths will always brush through his hair. 

(He tries to never think very hard about how if something goes wrong, he’ll be the one to know, canary in the cave-)

It’s awhile before McNasty says anything, but Dooo knows by now, knows he has to be patient with McNasty sometimes. It used to hurt, the way Dooo had to coax and prod and tease to get McNasty to open up, a challenge, an encryption. Like he wasn’t someone to be trusted, never granted enough faith.

Now Dooo tucks one leg up against McNasty’s hip, hums with contentment when his hand drops absent mindedly to thumb at Dooo’s waist. When he needed to, McNasty always thought out what he was saying, almost to the point of detriment, but Dooo knew the longer the wait, the more important it was to McNasty to not fuck it up. So he settles into a doze against McNasty’s neck, curls his hands against the warmth of his chest, and lets his breathing even out to match the timing of McNasty’s. 

“Dooo,” McNasty says, eventually.

“McNasty,” Dooo responds. He drops his hand to settle over McNasty’s, calming the anxious circles he’s rubbing into Dooo’s skin.

McNasty lets out a breath. It ruffles Dooo’s hair, and he’s reluctant to admit how comforting it is. “I don’t want to worry about you.”

Dooo waits a moment to see if he would continue.

“I know, Er.”

“Should I be worried, baby? Because-” McNasty’s voice is so soft against the shell of Dooo’s ear, practically a whisper. Confided, only for him. “I’m gonna be honest, that little scene today didn’t inspire a lot of confidence.”

“I know what I’m doing, Eric.” It doesn’t seem to be as reassuring as Dooo hoped it would. McNasty’s shoulders don’t lose their tension.

“I know you think you know what you’re doing. I just wanna know if you’re okay.” McNasty says, and Dooo takes a deep breath.

“Honestly?” Dooo asks. 

He can almost feel the frown that slashes down through McNasty’s features.

“Yeah. That’s all I want,” McNasty says. His breath still ruffles Dooo’s hair.

Dooo pushes himself up on one elbow, meets McNasty’s eyes. He looks open, and too vulnerable, sprawled out in Dooo’s bed, and Dooo doesn’t know what his eyes are reflecting. 

“I’m not always sure.”

McNasty presses a warm hand to Dooo’s face as he continues. “That doesn’t mean that you should worry about me. I can handle myself.”

McNasty smiles, knows it’s tinted with something just adjacent to sadness. He takes a breath. “I believe you.”

Dooo drops off his arm, presses his forehead to McNasty’s, and makes McNasty lean forward the rest of the way to capture Dooo’s lips in a kiss, soft and sleepy. Breaking away with a soft chuckle, Dooo rolls over, pressing his back against McNasty’s chest and lining their bodies up, matching from head to toe. (To McNasty’s knees, or thereabouts, but Dooo doesn’t think about that or else he’ll get cranky about missing out on playing footsies.)

“McNasty?”

“Hm?” McNasty grumbles sleepily.

“Thanks for staying in the room today.” Dooo whispers. 

McNasty wraps his arm tighter around Dooo’s waist.

“Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a discord server specifically for talking about these idiots, as well as most of the content hub! if you're interested in debating with me over the dynamics of grizzy/smitty, or yelling every time playdead posts another pic of his thighs, or seeing all the clips I pull from puffer's streams, feel free to check us out!! the permalink is https://discord.gg/KhB9bAg <3


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